93 Diagon Alley
by Purple Aquarius
Summary: Fred and George are doing excellent business in their newly opened shop, but they soon realize that they need some help. Who is the mysterious character we only get a glimpse of in HBP? GeorgeVerity.
1. Chapter 1

93 Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling.

Note: I'd like to express my extreme gratitude to my beta, Tarhisie. She r0x0rs my s0x0rs.

Any comments are appreciated

Diagon Alley had always been a busy place. There was a store for everyone. If a witch or wizard needed anything, from potion supplies to an ice cream sundae, it could be found at Diagon Alley. And now with the addition of the quickly growing Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, one never saw a shortage of people, if it was a nice day. Foul weather usually kept many shoppers from going to Diagon Alley, and a dreary Thursday in early May was no exception. The day had started cloudy and it began raining late morning. The afternoon was turning dark as the downpour continued. The street outside was empty, only punctuated by the occasional weary shopper, running from one shop to the next using an old copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as a makeshift umbrella, or wearing a hat to protect from the rain. The only light came from the few still-open stores, pouring from display windows or quickly flashing as a door opened and shut, but one shop exploded with light. Flashing signs hung above the windows and door, and the inside screamed with bright flames and neon colors. One sign was plastered on the door:

Tired of your dull 9-5 desk job?

Or, maybe you need a shock of excitement

In your life.

If so, why not work at

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?

Apply for this fast-paced and

Thrilling job today!

Inquire Within

Unfortunately for Fred and George Weasley, the day had neither been fast-paced or thrilling. The identical twin brothers were stuck re-stocking their newly added Defense Against the Dark Arts section behind a curtain.

"Maybe we should close early tonight. We haven't had a customer for hours," Fred voiced as he opened a box of Instant Darkness Powder and started putting the small pouches of it on the shelf.

"But, it's only half four. I'm sure we'll get a few customers once tea's over," George replied over the massive piles of shield clothing he was sorting. Fred nodded in agreement and turned back to the powder.

For the few months the shop had been open, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' business was booming. Fred and George had become the biggest names in joking and pranks, even bigger that Zonko's. Their shop was the hot spot for all the London wizarding children and teenagers. The mail-order service helped customers stay up to date all across Britain. Because of their success, the twins were starting to branch into other markets, like Muggle novelty tricks and their new DADA section.

Even so, Fred and George were starting to notice some drawbacks. The store was becoming more and more crowded; there would always be a queue of customers waiting to be helped. After closing for the day, they'd spend hours cleaning and stocking, and then they'd have to do a lot of business-related paperwork. On bad nights, they wouldn't get to bed until well after midnight.

After a couple weeks of this, they realized the inevitable: the twins needed some hired help. The next day, Fred hung his version of a 'Help Wanted' sign on the door before opening shop. He and George decided to take applications for a fortnight before starting the interviewing process. But, it had only been a few days later, and they had already received almost 50 filled applications. George thought of then stopping at 100 applications, which wasn't taking very long. At the moment, they were at ninety-five, only six days after putting up their notice.

At five o'clock, a bell rang through the shop, signaling that someone had walked through the door. Both George and Fred looked up and after hearing a faint "Hello?" Fred called, "It's your turn brother."

George sighed, dropped his armful of shield hats and walked through the curtain. "Welcome to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes! I'm George Weasley, how can I help you?" he exclaimed as he walked behind the counter and faced his customer.

She was a barely tall, sopping wet witch, about nineteen or twenty years old. Her chin length hair stuck to her head and her bangs were dripping over her eyes, but she had a nice smile on her face nonetheless.

"Hi, I just saw your sign, the one for your open job, and I'm inquiring within."

"Right. Well, here's an application," George said, grabbing a roll of parchment from under the countertop and handing it to her. "Fill it out, and you can return it by owl. But, we've almost reached our deadline, so try and be quick if you want the job."

"All right," the witch replied, taking the parchment. "Oops…"

George looked down and saw what the "oops" was about. Her wet clothes had dripped all over the counter, getting papers and small merchandise soaked. Looking behind her, George also saw she had left a trail of water from the door.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry!" she groaned, turning from her newly created stream in the middle of the shop.

"Oh, no trouble. Here-" George quickly pulled out his wand and performed several drought charms on the floor, counter and finally, her. The witch's hair instantly dried and curled slightly under her ears. It also brightened to a sunshiny blonde. Her robes stopped dripping, and fitted better on her body. She looked startled, but smiled gratefully.

"Cheers," she said, finally taking her dry application and putting it in her bag, "I guess I should've thought of that, but I didn't really notice. I've been out all day." George noted her soft London accent and a badge haphazardly stitched on her bag.

"Puddlemere Untied, eh?" George asked, with a smirk.

"Oh- Yeah," the witch said, looking at her badge. "Does this mean I won't be getting the job, then?" she asked, a smile gracing her face.

"Oh, no. We're an equal opportunity employer. We don't discriminate against… handicaps," George answered, still smirking and glancing at her bag. The young woman laughed.

"I beg your pardon! Well then, what team do you support?"

"Chudley Cannons," George stated, proudly.

"And you think I'm handicapped? At least I support a team that actually wins once in a while." George mocked offence, but then smiled. He was about to retort, when a surprised yell and cursed oath floated through the curtain.

"What's going on?" asked the witch, looking worriedly at where the sound came from.

George sighed, "That'll be my dear brother, Fred. We've been having some trouble with a new product. I better go see what the damage is. Poor dear, he never seems to manage without me." Thinking of his brother, George chuckled, shaking his head. The witch took this as her time to leave.

"Well, good luck then. Expect an owl with my application tomorrow," she said, walking toward the door. George waved, thanked her for stopping by, and watched her walk out the door. She looked right, and then ran in the other direction, into the continuing rain.

"Who was that?" asked Fred, his head poking out between the curtains in the doorway to the DADA room.

"Just some witch. She wanted an application. What was going on back there?" Fred stepped back, and held the curtains for his brother to walk into the room.

"I dropped a bunch of those new Decoy Detonators, and they started running everywhere. Don't worry, I stunned them and got them back on the shelf."

The next day was still overcast, but the rain had stopped. The muted sunlight gave off no warmth and a chilly breeze swept through the city.

The shop was quiet as the twins set up for the usual after-lunch crowd. It had been fairly busy in the morning, but Fred and George were expecting a steady onslaught once lunch would be over, until closing. As George refilled the Skiving Snackboxes, he heard the familiar jingle from the door. He was surprised to see the same witch from the other day.

"Hello again. It seems you made a mistake yesterday." She said, reaching for something in her bag. She pulled out the parchment George had given to her and handed it to him. He looked at her quizzically before unrolling it. Once he saw what the problem was, he laughed.

George had not given her an application last night, but an inventory scroll. "I do apologize. I'll get you a real application," he said, motioning for her to follow him as he walked to the counter. Looking below, he found where the application scrolls were (in very close proximity to the inventory ones), and grabbed one. Before giving it to her, he read to make sure it really was what it was supposed to be.

"All right, here you are. It's an application, I double checked." George smiled as the witch took it. She looked at him for a moment before she spoke.

"That's an interesting shade of magenta you chose." She said, pointing to his staff robes. With a small smile she added, "They clash marvelously with your ginger hair. I love it."

"Thank you," George responded, though it sounded more like a question. "Hopefully, they won't clash so much with your hair… If you get the job, that is." He smiled awkwardly at the witch, and if George wasn't mistaken, he might've seen a slight blush appear on her cheeks.

"Hopefully," she replied simply as she walked out the door.

An hour later, Fred was startled when a Little Owl flew from an open window onto his desk. Taking the roll tied to its leg, he handed the small bird an owl treat. After opening the parchment, he quickly scanned it and threw it in the pile with the other 99 applications. The owl finished the treat, and then flew out the window.


	2. Chapter 2

93 Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: It's not mine! None of it!

A/N: Thank you to my reviewer, MG! A thousand brownie points to you. I hope this answers your question.

- - - - - - -

Chapter 2

That evening, after the twins closed the shop, they began looking at the applications, sorting them in the back room. Its door was behind the front counter, and it had a staircase on the far wall, which led to Fred and George's flat on the first floor. The room was quite big, with two desks against the right wall. The desks faced each other, and were surrounded by file cabinets and bookshelves, which were surprisingly clean and organized. The left side of the room was the laboratory. Empty tables stood in the middle, while shelves hugged the walls. The shelves were full of magical ingredients used for their products. It was here where Fred and George would test ideas, make new things, and try not to cause lasting bodily harm in the process.

"How do you suppose we do this, little brother?" Fred asked, dropping the box of applications on the desks haphazardly. He then plopped in his office chair, leaning back and resting his crossed legs on the desk.

"How about we split them, you take fifty, I take fifty. That way, we narrow down the ones we want to interview." George offered, taking his seat on the opposite side. Fred nodded and started splitting the large pile. He handed George a set, and they started reading through the applications.

There was silence as they worked; it was only interrupted by a soft chuckle, snort of laughter, or a surprised comment. George finally got to the last roll of parchment fifteen minutes before midnight.

Name: Verity Warheit

Address: 48 Oxford Street, London, W1D 1BF

Date of Birth (dd/mm/yyyy): 05/02/1977

Education History: Graduated Hogwarts in 1994, Ravenclaw. Received 10 O.W.L.s and 9 N.E.W.T.s. Prefect.

Have you ever been convicted of a crime or felony? No.

Are you a Squib? No.

Are you currently employed? No.

How much would you like to be paid? 1 galleon/hr.

What is you favorite Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes product and why? I use Fever Fudge to get out of volatile family dinners, and it's dangerously delicious.

George was impressed. This Verity lived quite near Diagon Alley, was very close in age to he and his brother, and obviously very smart. A galleon per hour was reasonable for pay (as opposed to ten, which an older wizard had asked for), and her response to the last question was funny enough. George rolled up the scroll and put it in his small keep pile. Fred was just finishing up as well, putting his last application in the throw pile. Combined, they decided to keep fifteen applications. They decided to schedule the interviews starting on Monday, one before opening, during lunch, and after closing. Quickly, they wrote up notices, telling the chosen applicants when their interview would be. One-thirty rolled around, finding the twins exhausted, climbing up the stairs to their flat.

"'Night, George," Fred mumbled after collapsing heavily on the bed in his room.

"Goodn-ni-ight, Fred," George stuttered amidst a massive yawn as he walked into his room. A moment later, a loud thud signaled George's collapse onto his bed, and the brothers immediately passed through to dreamland.

- - - - - - -

"Yes, _thank you_."

"But-"

"Don't owl us, we'll owl you," George called out, before Fred slammed the door. And such was the end of another failed interview. This one had been especially bad. The small man had been pompous and arrogant. It only took five minutes for Fred and George to know the man was a complete prick. There were a couple fairly good interviews, and the third one had been promising, until the end:

"Thank you very much, Ms. Green. Expect an owl from us this weekend," Fred said, holding the door for the woman. George stood on the other side, shaking her hand.

"Very good, I can't wait to do business with you, Mr. and Mrs. Hazelbrot."

A few people had very nice applications, but when they showed up, it was disappointing. One man seemed to have never washed his hair in his lifetime, and was always looking over his shoulder, murmuring things about his "Fuddikins." Whatever that was, the twins preferred not to know. One woman was extremely ancient looking, could barely walk, and positively stunk of cat sick.

George was tired. It was Friday afternoon, and they only had one more interview to do. He silently prayed to any higher power that existed for the last interview to be a good one, but if he could use the past ones as an example, he couldn't expect much.

"Well, what do you think, dear George?" Fred asked, sitting on the front counter.

"I think we're royally screwed," George replied simply, leaning on the counter, next to his brother. He was facing the front windows, looking out and wondering why at least one somewhat normal person hadn't applied.

"Don't lose heart, my little brother. We have one interview left, it may be the one," Fred stated optimistically. George rolled his eyes as his brother patted his back and slid off the countertop.

"I guess we'll see."

- - - - - - -

Seven o'clock arrived, letting itself be known on the store's rather elaborate clock. Fred served the last customer of the day as George issued all the remaining people out. Once the shop was empty, George closed the door, and flipped over a sign on the right display window with a flick of his wand so it showed the CLOSED side to the outdoors. Immediately, they both started tidying up before their last interview, which was scheduled for half seven.

George was feeding the Pygmy Puffs when he heard a timid knock at the front door. He looked up to the clock and saw the long hand move directly over the six as Fred opened the door.

"Hello. You must be Verity Warheit. I'm Fred Weasley." Fred introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weasley," a familiar voice answered, taking Fred's hand. He ushered her in and closed the door. "Ah, here's my younger brother, George," he said, motioning towards George.

"Only by three minutes, dear Fred." George looked at Verity, and recognized her short blonde hair and Puddlemere United badge. Her smile was slightly nervous as she looked from Fred to him. "Ah, yes, the Inventory Scroll Witch. I believe we've met before," he said, smiling warmly and shaking her hand.

"Good evening," Verity replied and stepped back after shaking George's hand. She was smartly dressed with sharply cut black robes and a matching ribbon in her hair. What surprised George were her shocking blue sneakers, barely hidden by her robes.

"If you'll kindly follow us to the back, we may begin the interview." Fred started walking toward the back room with George, Verity quickly following. They had made a little interview area near the front of the back room, pulling a table from the testing area. Fred and George were using their office chairs, and they had provided an extra chair from their kitchen table upstairs.

"Would you like anything to drink?" George asked, offering Verity the kitchen chair.

"Oh, no thank you."

"You sure? Fred, do you want anything?"

"Yeah, some pumpkin juice would be great." George looked at Verity expectantly.

"Oh, I guess I could have some tea, if you've got it," she said, looking at George nervously. He nodded, and waved his wand. Instantly, three beverages appeared on the table. George took a sip of coffee from a double handled cup he'd had since he was five, and waited for Fred to start.

"Verity, it says on your application you graduated from Hogwarts. What was your favorite subject?" Fred asked before taking a swig of juice from a large blue mug.

"Well, I liked Arithmancy a lot. Numbers always fascinated me, and I found the class to be extremely interesting. But I also loved astronomy. I think Divination could have been a good class, except the teacher was…lacking." Fred and George snickered, remembering Trelawney and her magnifying eyeglasses. Verity looked up from the Quidditch World Cup commemorative goblet full of tea and smiled.

"What did you enjoy most about Hogwarts?" George asked.

"I liked a lot of things. The Quidditch matches were always fun to see. But they got frustrating when Gryffindor got Harry Potter. Your team was unbeatable." The twins beamed. "But I think I mostly enjoyed the Hogsmeade weekends. I grew up in Muggle London, so I really loved exploring an entirely wizarding town, and it was always nice to get away from the castle once in a while.

"What about being a Prefect? Could you describe your experience?" asked Fred, looking from her application. Both he and George had slight reservations about hiring a Prefect. They had no idea if she would end up being like their younger brother's friend, Hermione, or worse, their estranged brother, Percy.

"Well, I don't think I was the best Prefect," Verity replied with a chuckle. "I took full advantage of my privileges, like sneaking to the kitchens to get food, pretending to be on duty, or telling my friends how to get around certain rules and finding loopholes for them, but I knew where to draw the line. I made sure there were no impressionable young minds around when I did something that was possibly against the rules, and I never got caught.

George was intrigued. A slightly immoral Prefect? Who knew such a person could exist. He responded well to her manner. Finally getting over her nervousness, she appeared comfortable and confident. The way she spoke was casual, but still eloquent. After hearing her talk about being a Prefect, George knew that she had the right way of thinking to work at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. He looked over at his brother, who gave him an impressed look. Fred felt the same.

"What's your favourite colour?"

Verity looked startled at George's random question, but then smiled. "I think turquoise, but shades of pink and purple will always catch my eye." She looked at George and he felt his cheeks get warm as he remembered his comment to Verity about the magenta staff robes when she came in a week ago.

"What have you been doing since graduating?" Fred asked, clueless of the inside meaning of her last answer.

"Right after I graduated, I got a job at Terrortours. I was a travel agent, planning vacations for customers, and such. Lately, though, travel was declining, and I was getting bored with my job, so I quit. I was living off my savings for a couple weeks, before deciding I needed another job. I saw your sign about an open job, and I couldn't resist.

This brought gave George the perfect chance to ask the most important question. Her answer would either make or break her chances of getting the job. "Speaking of which, why do you want this job?"

Verity paused before answering, knowing the significance of this question. "This store always attracted me. Every day, I would pass the display windows, and I would always pause to look at them. The items you sell are ingenious, and the environment of this store is so fun! Ever since my first time walking in this store, I've wanted to be a part of it. I know I would enjoy every moment working here, and I can tell it will never get boring or monotonous."

George could tell she was serious. Her eager excitement lit her eyes. She didn't want the job just for the sake of having a job; she really wanted to be a part of his and Fred's mischief-making world.

A loud bell sounded, coming from the main room. George looked at his watch, surprised to see it was already eight-thirty.

"Well, I think that means our interview is over," Fred stated, getting out of his chair and leading to the main room. He held the curtain to the side, letting Verity through, and gave a huge smile and thumbs-up to George, who returned it. Once they were at the front door, George asked, "Can you come by on Monday at half nine, before opening, for a quick orientation? It'd be best to do it then; there won't be any customers, and you'll be able to ask any questions you may have. We'd like you to have at least a little background information before you start helping customers."

"Oh! So this means I got the job?" The twins nodded with huge grins on their faces. Verity looked unbelieving at them, expecting them to stop smiling and kicking her out of the shop. But they kept smiling. And nodding. She really got the job! Forcing back a scream of glee, Verity returned their grins with an inexpressively happy one of her own.

"Yes. Yes, of course I can come by! Thank you so much, Mr. Weasley-" she shook Fred's hand vigorously, "and Mr. Weasley-" she gave George's hand the same treatment. Fred opened the door for her.

"Until Monday, then."

"Yes, until Monday," Verity replied, rather breathless and still grinning.

"Goodnight!" George called before closing the door. She turned around, and waved to him, her outline slightly warbled through the window.

"I like her."

George turned from the window as her shape disappeared. "I do too."


End file.
